Distant horns.
Tomas cursing.
Her own breath, thin and broken.
“Mrs. Moretti.” Tomas twisted toward her, blood running down the side of his face. “Naomi. Look at me. Are you hurt?”
She did not answer right away.
Her first hand went to her stomach.
“I don’t know.”
Tomas’s expression changed.
Not fear for her.
Fear of what Adrian Moretti would become if she lost the child.
He kicked the rear door until warped metal gave way. Rain rushed in, cold and sharp. Naomi stumbled as he pulled her out. Her knees nearly folded beneath her, but Tomas caught her.
The driver groaned in the front seat.
Tomas pressed his gun to the man’s cheek.
“Who sent you?”
The driver spat blood.
Then he smiled.
“Ask Sebastian.”
Tomas went still.
At the end of the dark road, headlights appeared.
Too many.
Too fast.
Not Adrian’s.
Tomas grabbed Naomi’s arm.
“Run.”
She did.
Rain slapped her face. Broken glass crunched under her shoes. Behind them, men spilled out of the crashed convoy, shouting into radios. Another wave of vehicles roared toward the barrier. Naomi heard weapons being drawn, doors slamming, orders snapping through the storm.
Tomas shoved her behind a concrete support.
“Stay down.”
“What is happening?” she gasped.
His jaw tightened.
“Your husband was right about one thing.”
“What?”
“Everyone wants what you’re carrying.”
A black sedan skidded to a stop in the rain.
The rear door opened.
For one impossible second, Naomi thought it was Adrian.
It was not.
Sebastian Moretti stepped out beneath the streetlights wearing a charcoal overcoat and the calm expression of a man arriving early to dinner.
“Naomi,” he called. “Come here before this becomes unpleasant.”
Tomas raised his gun.
Sebastian sighed.
“Tomas, don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Not tonight.”
“You were always loyal to the wrong brother.”
Naomi stared at him through the rain. The man who had brought her books when she was sick. The man who had told her Adrian loved like a locked room because no one had taught him how to open a door. The man who had stood beside her at the wedding reception and said, “Welcome to the family,” as if it were a blessing.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Sebastian’s eyes dropped to her stomach.
There it was.
Not tenderness.
Not surprise.
Ownership.
“The future,” he said.
Naomi’s skin crawled.
“You tried to kill me.”
“No.” Sebastian tilted his head, offended by the lack of nuance. “If I had wanted you dead, you would be dead. I wanted you frightened enough to understand that Adrian cannot protect you.”
“And you can?”
“I can tell you the truth.”
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it knelt at your feet.”
His smile thinned.
“You have more of him in you than I expected.”
Tomas moved in front of her.
Sebastian looked bored.
Then he lifted one hand.
The night erupted.
Tomas fired first.
Bullets tore through the rain. Metal rang. Glass burst. Naomi dropped behind the concrete as pieces of the barrier exploded above her. Tomas dragged her by the wrist toward the shadows under the road, firing with one hand, covering her body with his own.
She did not know how she kept moving.
Her shoes slipped. Her shoulder burned. Her stomach cramped with panic. Every breath tasted like rain and smoke.
Then a hand reached from the darkness and grabbed her.
Naomi swung her purse with everything she had.
“Stop!” a woman hissed. “It’s me!”
Naomi froze.
“Clara?”
Her sister’s face appeared beneath the hood of a black raincoat. Her eyes were wild, her cheeks pale, her hands shaking around Naomi’s arm.
“Move. Now.”
“How are you here?”
“No time.”
Tomas aimed at Clara.
Naomi grabbed his wrist.
“She’s my sister.”
Clara looked at Tomas. “There’s a medical van two blocks away. No markings. Private doctor. Unless you want her collapsing in a Moretti safe room while your boss tears the city apart, help me.”
Tomas hesitated.
His loyalty showed on his face like a wound.
Adrian’s wife.
Adrian’s child.
Adrian’s orders.
Then another bullet struck the concrete behind them.
Tomas made his choice.
“Go.”
They ran through an underpass that smelled of rust, urine, rainwater, and old smoke. Naomi’s lungs burned. Clara kept one arm around her waist, half carrying her when her legs weakened. Tomas followed behind them, gun raised, watching every shadow.
At the end of an alley, a white van waited with the lights off.
Not an ambulance.
A van.
Naomi stopped.
“No.”
Clara grabbed her face with both hands.
“Listen to me. I know you don’t trust anyone. Good. You shouldn’t. But you have three choices. Sebastian takes you. Adrian locks you behind his gates. Or you get in this van and finally hear the part nobody wanted you to know.”
Tomas looked back.
“They’re close.”
Naomi got in.
The van door slammed.